


A Night at a Lonely Inn

by DecroMcQuin



Category: Ebon Ward
Genre: inn, stormy night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 16:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecroMcQuin/pseuds/DecroMcQuin
Summary: As a storm rages outside, it's nice to spend a pleasant evening somewhere warm and dry even if there's no one around.





	A Night at a Lonely Inn

The rain beat against the old roof of the wind battered inn. The heavy patter of drops steadily soaked the squat window panes to the point of distorting their vistas of the darkened, surrounding hillsides. A few buckets had been placed underneath spots where the ceiling had given up it’s seemingly endless war with the elements. Fortunately the walls of the old building were made of sterner stuff and, despite their creaks and groans of complaint against the sharp, howling winds, stood their ground. 

Apart from the wails of the wind there were only three other sounds present in the inn: the soft crackle of old logs and embers in the central hearth, the contrasting upbeat songs of the rather dashing Bard who was spending a night, and the rattle and clatter of the sign outside as the vengeful winds, upset with their inability to steal away the whole building, attempted to at least take its name. Try as it might though, this place would always have its name: “The Double Barrel”

The Bard finished his set and took a seat at the bar. He took a look around the quiet taproom, empty save for him and the mysterious Innkeeper.  
“Yeesh, slow night, amirite?” The Bard intoned. He was a handsome fellow with a roguish demeanor and long blonde hair. There was little to differentiate him from most Bards save for a tongue ring he was wearing, which the Innkeeper could swear glinted with a hint of magic.

The Innkeeper noded. “I suppose it’s likely on account of the storm out. You’d have to be fool or in a hurry to be out in that. Still, a deal’s a deal, and if nothing else your songs kept me from dozing off; the room’s yours for the night.”

The Innkeeper paused for a moment before lifting his hat up from over his face. “Say, I don’t think I’ve heard that one song before though, about the Tiger Princess…”

“Oh yeah, it’s something new I’ve been working on, you’d probably never believe me, but a lot of that comes from personal experience.”

To this the Innkeeper raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you saw a lady turn into a tiger and fight off a swarm of weird puppet things?”

“Yeah, that was the reaction I was expecting.”

“Sorry, I believe you, it’s just that it reminds me of something similar that happened to me once.”

“Oh? Well I’m always looking for new stories if you wanted to share it.”

The Innkeeper chuckled a bit at the Bard’s haste. “Maybe another time, it’s a bit grim and there are some parts that drag on longer than they need to.”

As the Bard and the Innkeeper continued chatting there came a knock at the door.  
“Oh looks like there is someone out on the roads tonight.” The Bard mentioned.

“Reckon they’re probably sick of the rain. Door’s open, come on in!” The Innkeeper called.

The door opened, letting in a sudden blast of cold wind and rain that stirred the fire in the hearth into a wild flickering spirit before the door closed and it settled back down. In stepped three rough looking figures. The one in the middle was clearly the leader of the three by the way he carried himself and the fact that he carried a grim looking cutlass, where the other two were only equipped with simple wooden clubs. Each of them wore the same crooked smile usually reserved for wanted posters. There was no mistake, these newcomers weren’t just here for a good drink and a warm bed.

“Well HelllllooOOO!” The leader of the goons called out across the taproom, sweeping his gaze over it for any would-be-heroes. “Me and my friends seem to have gotten lost. We’re looking for someplace we can get a lot of coin fast. You wouldn’t happen to know of a place like that would you?”

The Innkeeper met the gaze of the Leader steadily and replied “Well, as you can see we aren’t very busy tonight, so I’m afraid I don’t need any extra hands at the moment. But you’re more than welcome to come back on a clearer night if you want to help out.”

The Leader laughed at this reply. “Damn! You must have stone for skin under those feathers if you’re that dense! Well if you don’t have enough money to satisfy us then we’ll just have to beat you till we’re bored to make up for the lost money.” He then went to approach the bar.

He had only taken one step when a gunshot rang through the tavern. The explosive suddenness of the sound caused everyone in the Inn to either stop dead or in the case of the Bard, to jump in surprise.

The Innkeeper stood behind the bar with a musket raised to his shoulder. In the blink of an eye he had pulled it from under the bar counter, aimed, sighted and fired. The Goon Leader quickly looked down at himself and checked for wounds. Finding none, he turned to see if one of his cohorts had been hit, which is when he saw a small hole in the door behind him.

This caused another round of laughter to burst out of the Goons, although it was far more nervous than before. “Y-You idiot! You missed me.”

“Check again, that was a warning shot.”

“What!?” The Goon Leader turned again, this time seeing the full picture. Just above the bullet hole was carved a small arrow, almost imperceptibly small that pointed to exactly where the shot had gone through. He turned back when he heard the SNAP! Of the musket being reloaded. Internally he scolded himself for giving the Innkeeper the chance to reload.  
“I’m only giving you one chance to leave here alive. I don’t take any joy in killing but if you come after me I won’t have a choice.”

“Y-Yeah! Well… You only get one shot! And there’s three of us! So what’s stopping us from just rushing you?” The Leader managed to shout with what appeared to be confidence, but in reality he was getting desperate.

“4 seconds…” 

"Wh-What?" The Brigand stammered

"That's how long it takes me to reload" The Innkeeper explained "You're currently 40ft away from me, it would take you at least 6 seconds to reach me. Certainly you can all try and rush me at once but one of you are going to get shot between the eyes on your way over here. Then I’ll reload and take another one of you out. One of you will reach me but the question is, which one of you is brave enough to bet it’s going to be you?”

The Goon Leader was sweating now “You’re bluffing! Even if you can reload that fast there’s no guarantee that you’d hit every shot!” He was regaining some confidence now, except that when he looked into the eyes of the Innkeeper, he didn’t see a hint of bluff or bluster. To the innkeeper his words were facts, colder and harder than the flinty eyes that pierced into his very soul.

Fortunately for the Goon Leader his underlings seemed to have agreed with his assessment that the innkeeper was bluffing and seemed only a little hesitant to charge their target. If he hesitated for just a second he’d be behind both of the underlines, and the Innkeeper would likely shoot whoever was closest to him. He waited for just a moment longer to steel himself, then barked the order. “GET HIM!”

The first shot rang out, the Goon on the left fell. As the leader charged forward he kicked a table up in front of himself, forcing the Innkeeper to change targets at the last second. As he finished reloading he shot the second goon, who was only a few steps away from the bar as she fell hard into one of the stools and didn’t get back up.

The Innkeeper tried to reload before the Leader reached him, but wasn’t nearly quick enough, as the leader jumped up onto the bar and thrust his cutlass down at him. The Innkeeper managed to duck just in time, sending the cutlass deep into the wood where his head was just moments before. Thinking on his feet, the Leader left his sword in embedded in the wood and jumped off the bar on top of the Innkeeper, kicking away the musket and drawing a dagger as he did so. The Innkeeper struggled to escape, but the Goon Leader was too experienced at killing helpless victims and had firmly pinned his foe.   
“Looks like you weren’t quick enough to get all of us! Whatever, more loot for me!”

“That selfishness is going to be your downfall someday, you know that right?” The Innkeeper managed to say through his foe’s iron hold on him.

“Maybe one da-” The Goon Leader only got that far before a drum crashed into the side of his head. With an expression of total shock on his face the Leader slumped over, revealing the Bard standing over the two prone figures.

Still shaking with adrenaline, he extended a hand to help up the Innkeeper, who nodded and gladly took it.

“Well, I’d say you’ve more than earned that room now. Feel free to stay as long as you like Mr…” The Innkeeper paused. “You know, this is going to sound rude but I don’t think I ever caught your name”

The Bard was finally managing to calm down before answering. “Oh yeah, it’s Alfonzo. Actually, now that you mention it, did I ever get your name?”

The Innkeeper chuckled a little. “To a lot of people I’m just the mysterious musket master, but friends call me Musty.”

Alfonzo hadn’t let go of Musty’s hand yet and so Musty took the opportunity to shake it. “Pleased to know you” they said at once.


End file.
